


Playing House

by anomalousspace



Series: Doctor-Patient Privileges [2]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 14:55:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19402621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anomalousspace/pseuds/anomalousspace
Summary: Harvey tries to avoid anxiety-inducing conversations.





	Playing House

**Author's Note:**

> I've been kind of on a tear, lately, so I guess here's more of this thing. Takes place after my story Winter 14, Year 1.
> 
> This fic was kind of inspired by the excellent Good Omens fic "A Home at the Beginning of the World" by stereobone.
> 
> Thank you for the comments and kudos so far on the first story. Hope you enjoy.

Looking back on it now, you’re pretty sure it began in earnest towards the end of spring, as the flu season was winding down. The natural consequence of that, of course, is more free time for a small-town doctor.

Or maybe, you think, everything has just been a slow progression since the 14th of winter, when you’d thrown Harvey a birthday party and then proceeded to, ah, _make your intentions known._ You’d both had every intention of keeping your developing relationship discreet for a bit, just to keep the pressure off, but then Abigail had happened to see you leaving the clinic in the morning. Early. And then, of course, everyone had known. Things don’t stay quiet for long in Pelican Town, unless you’re the Mayor.

To their credit, the villagers left you two mostly alone. The ones who couldn’t keep their mouths shut mostly expressed approval. Maru had sort of… squealed? But in a happy way. And Evelyn had caught you on the 16th at Pierre’s, holding onto you by the elbow to tell you that, “George and I are just so thrilled that that nice young man has found somebody to make him happy.”

Harvey does seem happy. It’s little changes that you notice. Sometimes when you walk into the clinic, he’s whistling a tune. Oftentimes when you stop in the clinic in the morning (your usual routine even before the birthday party), he’s already got a second cup of coffee waiting for you.

Given that it was the dead of winter and the peak of flu season, you’d been the one with spare time and Harvey the one with the busy schedule. Even so, you still had the animals to feed. So your time together was limited to the coffee and chats during the clinic’s opening hours. On the Thursday after the party, you’d broached the topic during your morning visits.

“So, I was thinking… Maybe tomorrow after closing up you could come out to the farm? I’d love to see you properly again.” Before you lose your nerve, you add quickly, “And since it’ll be Friday and you don’t have to be in the clinic on Saturday, you could stay over. If you wanted.”

“I’d love that,” he’d responded, and a warm smile stretched across his face.

*****

The two of you had gotten takeout from the Stardrop, Gus’s famous spaghetti, and you’d provided a bottle of peach wine you’d been aging for a season. Waking up in his arms had been _so comfortable,_ not to mention what had come after.

So from there, the routine was pretty set. He’d finish up at the clinic on Friday, come out to the farm, and stay until Saturday evening. It was reliable and comforting. _Just like Harvey,_ you thought.

The first week, you’d made sure to have a new toothbrush on hand, as well as an obvious spot for it in the toothbrush holder on your bathroom counter. “This is for you,” you’d said, “and if you like you can leave it here for next time.”

He’d kissed you then, wrapping you up in his arms. And he had left the toothbrush.

*****

On the Friday evening two weeks later, you’d accidentally spilled some wine on his shirt.

“Ah, damn,” you’d said. “I guess you can just leave that here this week, and I’ll get the stain out for you.”

He chuckled at that. “You know, I’m perfectly capable of doing my own laundry. I’ve only been doing it for over a decade.”

“I _know_. But I’m the one who spilled. Let me do this for you.”

You’d reached for his buttons then, and he’d let you. He watched you intently, and it was no surprise that after you’d divested him of his shirt, you found yourself pleasantly distracted.

That week he did leave the shirt. You washed and ironed it, then realized you needed somewhere to put the damn thing. So, you made a little space in your closet (really, it wasn’t anywhere near full to begin with) and hung it there so it wouldn’t get dirty again somehow.

Of course, the next week Harvey forgot to take it home anyway, so the shirt stayed in the closet.

*****

It’s now midsummer, early on a Friday morning. You look around the farmhouse, and everywhere you see reminders of Harvey. Things that belong to him. Things that used to be in his apartment. The toothbrush is still on your bathroom counter, but now it’s joined by a facial cleanser and a new bottle of shampoo in the shower, with a more masculine scent than the shampoo you prefer. From a cursory inventory, there are at least a dozen medical books on your bookshelf and there’s definitely a book there about the pilots and planes of WWI that you _know_ you didn’t buy. Add that to the radio on the kitchen counter that he’d brought over one night ostensibly to dance with you, and Yoba, the unfinished model airplane and paints sitting on your table.

You open the closet to get dressed for the day, and that’s when it hits you exactly what he’s been doing. You see no less than 7 of Harvey’s shirts hanging in your closet, and not one, but two pairs of his shoes on the floor.

As spring arrived, your working hours had increased and Harvey’s had decreased. He’d spent more and more time at the farm, occasionally spending afternoons there, or sleeping over on nights other than Friday, but the Friday/Saturday routine had remained. He’d arrive earlier, while you were still working, and occupy himself in the house waiting for you. And during that time, he’d been busy _secretly_ moving in.

Mentally, you add a visit to Robin to your daily to-do list, and then you get to work.

*****

Today was a relatively easy day on the farm with all the automated improvements you’ve made, so you’re waiting for him in the chair on the front porch when he comes walking up around six o’clock. He sees you waiting and a broad grin spreads across his face, which you answer with one of your own, pushing yourself up out of the chair to meet him in the driveway. He’s carrying a brown cloth bag, theoretically with his clothes for tomorrow, as well as a brown paper bag, out of which wafts the aroma of pasta from the Stardrop Saloon. You’re reminded of the first time he stayed over, and reach up to kiss him, though briefly since his hands are full.

“Hi,” he says softly once you pull away. “Missed you.”

“Missed you more.” 

“I’m not sure that’s possible.” He’s looking at you with a soft expression, and you take advantage of your proximity to give him a quick hug, one-sided since his hands are full.

“Let’s get this stuff inside so I can kiss you properly,” you say, and he lets you lead him inside.

Dinner from the Saloon is excellent, as always. This week it’s a baked ziti dish; Gus must be branching out a little. Harvey fills the silence telling you about what he’s been doing since the last time he saw you on Wednesday.

You finish the meal and Harvey helps you clean up, chattering about some jazz club in Zuzu City where he wants to take you sometime soon. When the last of the dishes are put away, you cut him off mid-sentence by simply rising up on your toes, pulling him down a little with you arm behind his neck, and kissing him soundly. His arms come up around your waist, holding you to him.

“It seems like you might have some plans for the evening,” Harvey rumbles, voice a little lower than usual.

You just nod and take his hand, leading him over to the couch.

You both settle into it, close enough that your knees touch. He leans over to kiss you again, his hand coming up to cradle your face. In response, you deepen the kiss and wrap yourself around him as best you can. He moves to kissing and nipping at your neck and a soft moan escapes your lips. He chuckles a little, muttering against your neck, “I think that might be my favorite sound.”

You have your goal in mind as you shift to reciprocate, running open-mouthed kisses down his neck and moving to straddle him on the couch. You feel his cock rapidly hardening beneath you and take the opportunity to grind against it, still lavishing attention on his neck. When you do, his hands find your hips and he lets out a deep groan. You pause and look at him, and then do it again, slowly and deliberately. This time, it earns you a sound you might describe as a hungry growl.

Harvey pulls you back forward to kiss you desperately and you take the opportunity to start working on the buttons to his shirt, grateful that he’s started to dispense with the tie, at least when he comes to visit you. Before you can finish, he’s pulling your shirt over your head and fiddling with your bra behind your back, scrabbling a little before he can finally unclasp it and slide it from your arms. He leans forward to nuzzle and suck at your breasts, lips finding a nipple.

“I was busy doing something,” you say in the most put out voice you can muster, but you arch towards him. While he’s otherwise occupied, you grind your hips again, earning a muffled moan. Your hands resume their work on the buttons, pushing his shirt back over his shoulders once all the buttons are undone. Underneath you, Harvey is fully hard; you can feel him pressing up against you through layers of fabric. Your hands drop down to work at his belt, undoing both the belt and the button and zipper of his pants.

You maneuver a little, pull his cock out of his boxers and wrap your hand around it, slowly stroking. He bucks up a little into your hand. Detaching yourself, you slide out of his lap and slip down to the floor, settling on your knees between his legs. Harvey takes one of your hands and threads his fingers with yours, a slight edge in his expression as you bend to take him into your mouth.

As your lips close around him, he moans, loud. You’re glad to be in the farmhouse and not his apartment that shares a wall with Pierre’s. You run your free hand up his thigh and begin to move around his cock.

You fall into a rhythm, alternately laving your tongue over the head of his cock and taking him as deep into your mouth as you can manage. As you fall into a rhythm, his free hand comes up to tangle in your hair. It’s a gentle pressure, not pulling, just guiding. He’s panting and groaning, but suddenly tugs on your hair a bit, apparently with something to say.

You pull back. “Something wrong?”

A small laugh. “Decidedly _not._ ” At that, you wrap your hand back around him, stroking insistently. He’s distracted for a moment, but then continues, “The only -- _oh_ \-- the only problem is that if you keep it up, I’ll be out of commission a little sooner than optimal.”

You grin a little. “It’s barely 7:30 and we have the whole night. Plus, there’s definitely other parts of you to stay busy in the meantime.” He bites his lip and groans. “Besides,” you continue, “I want you to come in my mouth.”

At that, you take him back into your mouth, hearing him whisper, “ _Yoba help me_ ,” as you get back down to business. This time, you don’t pull any figurative punches and when you glance up, you catch him watching hungrily. Your tongue finds the right spot -- “oh _yes,_ right _there_ ” -- and words begin to spill from his lips telling you how _good_ it all is: the way you make him feel, the way you look doing this. You take him even deeper and his tone changes, from appreciation to begging. “ _Don’t stop._ ”

You don’t stop. He bucks up against you with a strangled cry, thrusting erratically, orgasm coming in waves. In fact, you don’t stop until he stills, and you make sure he’s watching as you swallow. 

You sort of slither back up on the couch and wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a gentle kiss. When you pull back, he tries to say something but it doesn’t quite come. He clears his throat a little and tries again. “That was _incredible_.”

You giggle a little. “Glad to be appreciated.” You kiss the corner of his mouth. The moustache tickles a little bit. Then, you strike. “Now, when were you going to tell me you’ve been secretly moving in for weeks?”

He goes rigid. You look at him and see a familiar expression on his face, one you instantly place as anxiety. Overwhelming anxiety. You feel a little guilty at being the cause, so you decide to be merciful.

“Relax,” you say, and place a kiss to his forehead. “I’m not upset.”

He relaxes minutely. “Well, umm -- I sort of… hoped you wouldn’t notice?” He fidgets a little. “I know that’s stupid. I was just -- I couldn’t seem to get up the courage to just talk to you about it. I thought if I just progressively spent more and more time here, and brought more of my things here, we could just get to that point without having the conversation that terrified me.” With that, he laughs a little, apprehensively.

You arrange yourself so you’re making eye contact. You want him to know you take what he’s saying seriously and you want him to treat your response the same way.

“Listen to me,” you say, and bring your hand up to caress his cheek. “I know it’s hard to talk about these kinds of things. I would _love_ for you to move in here. In fact, I went to talk to Robin today and she’s going to start building an addition so we have a little extra space for any stuff you might want to bring over from your apartment. Like your model planes or the air traffic equipment.”

He’s visibly less tense now, but instead is looking at you like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. You take the opportune moment to kiss him, tenderly. “I thought maybe we could move some of that stuff and the rest of your clothes tomorrow. Luckily you own the apartment, so it’s not like you completely have to vacate. Probably nice to keep a few things there in case there’s a medical emergency where you need to be at the clinic.”

He nods, and adds quietly, “It’ll be nice to be here officially.”

“It’ll be nice to have you here all the time, officially.” You take a deep breath and forge on ahead. You have something you want to say. “I’m pretty sure that I love you, actually.”

He stills, looking at you with that inscrutable expression you’ve seen on his face before. Then a wide, slow smile stretches across his face, the biggest smile you’ve ever seen him wear. “Actually, I’m pretty sure I love you, too.” Saying that, he folds you into his arms. You burrow into his pale chest and press a kiss to it as he does the same to your hair.

“Glad that’s settled,” you murmur against him. “Now, wasn’t there some talk before about keeping other parts of you busy?”

That gets a laugh from him. But he also shifts to kiss you, still chuckling. “I think we can definitely do something about that.”


End file.
